


Dinner and a Murder

by TheMoreYouSew



Category: Game Grumps, Video Blogging RPF, jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Blackmail, Demons, Dinner Party, Gen, MAYBE GHOSTS, Murder Mystery, Reader-Insert, Revenge, androgynous reader, cliche but stick with me, inspired by clue, lets have fun, this is gonna be darker than I originally planned, yeah someone dies, you gotta find out whodunit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-09-15 23:42:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9264290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMoreYouSew/pseuds/TheMoreYouSew
Summary: An envelope, no return address, but the distinct seal pressed into wax gives it away. Inside, a handwritten letter. A time, a date, a place. Of course you can't help but go.A mansion, in pristine condition, but there haven't been any signs of anyone living in it for almost five years. Inside, a party, where everyone is wearing masks, including you. Dinner is announced.A dining room, already with prepared food, but the table only has ten chairs. Inside, the man who owns the beautiful estate, sitting at the head of the table. Dead.A whodunit mystery adventure, where YOU have to find out who committed the crime before the killer claims someone else. The doors are locked, the phones are down, and you have the feeling something not quite alive is roaming about, so act fast. There's a murderer in the building, and it may just be you...





	1. Mansion and a Letter

The decades-old estate sits at the end of a cul-de-sac in a neighborhood that has long since been abandoned, all the other houses bulldozed into the dirt. It's a popular stop for curious adventurers, paranormal investigators, and mischevious kids due to its interesting history. As the legend goes, the original builders and owners of the house lost it in a gambling match. The family was forced to move out, along with their staff, most of whom quit and abandoned the family.

The match winners then moved in, but it was hardly a month before tragedy struck. The beloved family pet went missing, followed days later by the main living room catching fire. No one was injured, but multiple important documents and family heirlooms were lost. The final straw, however, came only a month later, when both of the family's sons were killed in a freak accident. It seemed for a moment like the remaining occupants would move out, but they stubbornly stayed put.

The death appeared to have been the end of a trial, a test to see just what the family would put up with before they reached their breaking point. When they didn't, it was like they had won the game against whatever force was tormenting them and earned the right to stay. Over time, the misfortunes of the family turned to rumors. They grew in the community's favor, in fact, building close relationships with every nearby home and business, hosting lavish dinner parties and balls, and donating hundreds of thousands towards the betterment of the surrounding area.

When the family disappeared, it just hit all the harder.

"It's a boy!" The happy parents were holding a baby shower. Thier family had come from all over to congratulate them, grandparents, aunts, uncles, the oldest son dropping by from college, and of course the whole neighborhood was invited. People stayed for a few hours to laugh and chat over glasses of champagne, the hosting couple as charming as ever. The last few well-wishers filtered out sometime between ten and midnight. They didn't know it then, but they would be the last people to set foot in the house or even see the homeowners for the next twenty-five years.

People became worried, of course. Such prominent figures couldn't have just dropped off the face of the earth like that, could they? But after months of unopened doors, unlit porches, and unreturned calls, it seemed that might have been the case.

Again, rumors flew. A problem with the new baby was the general consensus, a tragic miscarriage, or trouble with labor that left only a grieving husband, who packed his things and vanished with the family servants overnight.

Flowers were left at the doorstep in solidarity, everyone felt sorry for the loss. And in time, everyone moved on and forgot.

It wasn't until almost three decades later that someone noticed a change. First, it was just a fixed roof. Then it was new windows to replace the broken and chipped panes. A fresh layer of paint, vines pulled off the walls and hedges trimmed, flower beds replanted, the iron fence was refurbished.

It finally looked like a house that someone lived in again, but by that time it was too late. The neighborhood had been bought out and flattened, leaving it the only building on a dark and foreboding road, and too much speculation about ghosts, axe-wielding maniacs, and all kinds of horrible things that could be inside prevented people from wanting to go near it.

Not to say the change didn't spark conversation, though.

People only _really_ started caring when a nice-looking young man came into the grocery store one day and purchased what seemed to be enough food for a small army. He was bright and cheery, well dressed with a cap snug on his head. He didn't talk much other than polite conversation, but boy did he cause a stir. Gossip flew between street vendors, schoolyard kids, and crowded lunchtables, and beauty parlor biddies.

You heard about the mysterious man as well, first from two moms jogging by you as you walked to the restaurant you worked at. You partially listened to a guy tell someone on the phone about how bummed he was that the mansion probably wasn't haunted.

The kitchen was buzzing about it, and while the noisiness of your fellow coworkers was usually a rather calming sound, the topic had already begun to get annoying. Everyone was just repeating the same things over and over, adding in whatever things they thought made the story more fascinating. If you were going to be interested, you wanted to know all of the details. _All_ of them. And not just about this weird guy, either.

 _Maybe I'll do some research on that mansion when I get home..._ you considered, tying on your apron and securing your hair back with a headband. 

You never got around to doing any research. You were exhausted by the time you got back to your apartment, feet dragging along the sidewalk, reminding yourself of your promise to get a bicycle. The restaurant was too close for you to waste money on gas driving back and forth, but it was just far enough that the walk at the end of the day left you winded. You retrieved the mail from its box, tossing it on the coffee table once inside.

A solid _thump_ made you turn back to look at the stack of letters. There, sandwiched between a magazine and Target coupons, was a cream-colored envelope. You picked it up, all the fatigue in your body being replaced with curiosity.

The envelope was held shut with a deep red wax stamp, imprinted with a seal that you recognized but couldn't quite put your finger on. There was no return address, not even your name, but your address was clearly there, delicately written in cursive. Even for junk mail, that was fairly uncommon. You thought back to the man everyone had been talking about.

Carefully, you peeled the wax up just enough for the envelope flap to pop open. Something about the letter made you unwilling to just rip it open like you usually did. The parchment inside matched the elegant aesthetic of its container. You opened it and found that the handwriting matched as well. It was an invitation, headed with your full name.

_**You are cordially invited to attend a celebratory ball, followed by dinner.** _

_**June 28th  
8pm** _

_**Fischbach Manor  
215 Oleander Avenue** _

_**Masks will be provided.** _

_**We hope to see you there.  
\--Jack** _

There was no way this wasn't a prank. A masquerade ball at some old creepy mansion, one that just so happened to pop back into relevance that same day? Sounded like a horror movie waiting to strike. Or maybe... Maybe that guy knew exactly what he was doing by showing up out of the blue like that, leaving a scene behind in his wake. He knew people would gain a newfound interest in the manor, and they wouldn't be able to resist attending.

Well, it was certainly working on you. You already had plans of what you were going to wear. You carried the envelope and letter with you to your room and set it on the nightstand, ensuring that you wouldn't forget. Even if you had burned the parchment and thrown it down a well, you knew that you'd never get the writing out of your head anyways. You wondered who else got the invitation, and who all would attend. Maybe you'd see some familiar faces. You could always ask your coworkers the next day.

Something about the letter stirred uneasiness in your gut the more you thought about it. You felt like there was a possibility something bad could happen, but the part of you that did want to go yelled louder than the part that didn't. Still, you couldn't shake off the weird feeling it gave you...

You decided to not tell anyone about the invite after all.


	2. Mask and a Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've had no motivation lately I'm so sorry

You fretted over your outfit the day of the event. A straight tie or a bow tie? Skirt or dress? Slacks and a button-down or a full three-piece? You didn't know how fancy the ball was going to be, and you certainly didn't want to over- or under-dress. It was ten til eight when you finally made a decision, racing downstairs to pull on your shoes and a coat. It would be hot in the summer weather, but the sun was setting and the extra pockets would be appreciated.

Once your phone and wallet and everything else had been accounted for, you were on your way down the street. The wax seal from the envelope had peeled off nicely in one piece, and you kept it in your pocket like a lucky coin, a bit of a reassurance that there _was_ a real person behind the letter. You didn't like the thought of arriving at the mansion and it being as cold and empty as you always imagined it to be. 

A car rushed by and the sound made you jump. It was a bit too close to the sidewalk, but you were a bit too close to the road as well so you refrained from yelling at the driver. You watched the car as it turned left down Oleander, the same direction as the mansion. The confirmation that you weren't the only one on your way there was comforting.

You saw the mansion the moment you rounded the corner. It screamed for your attention at the end of the street, a huge and imposing silhouette backlit by sunset purples and oranges that looked like it was coming from the manor itself rather than the sun sinking behind it. Multiple cars were parked in the large driveway, a few more around the cul-de-sac. It was creepy, but also a bit ethereal, drawing you in more. You grabbed a picture of the sight with your phone, then picked up the pace when you noticed it was less than five minutes until eight. Even if it was by a minute, you felt like knocking on the door past eight would be rude, and you didn't feel like making a bad impression on the host.

Your shoes had begun to hurt your feet by the time you climbed the stairs to the porch, making you regret not taking your car. The door knocker clanged loudly when you dropped it, and hardly a few seconds passed before the door swung open into an entryway the size of a small bedroom. A clouded glass wall and a second door separated it from the rest of the manor. You spotted benches and coat hooks along the side walls, tall and skinny vases with a few delicate-looking flowers at either side of both doors, and some leafier plants hanging down from the ceiling. For what seemed like a previously abandoned mansion, it was in incredible condition.

"Good evening." The man who opened the door greeted you. He had a flat cap on and too-blue eyes, a fitted waistcoat with a pocket watch chain that made him look like he stepped out of the Victorian era. "Please, come in. Welcome to the Fischbach estate, so glad you could make it. My name is Jack."

You shrugged off your jacket, handing it to him when he offered. "You're the one who wrote the letter?" 

"That's right." He said, and turned to hang up your jacket. You introduced yourself and he smiled brightly, "Wonderful to meet you. The other guests are in the ballroom. If you'll follow me..." Jack led you out of the mudroom and into the foyer, where a grand staircase wound up to a second floor, the loft balcony and crystalline chandelier looking out right above you. It was gorgeous, to say the least.

"Do you work here?" You asked as you followed Jack up the stairs.

"Yes, as the butler and head of staff."

"What do you do?"

"Well, I head staff and I buttle."

You couldn't tell if he was joking, but you laughed anyway. The faintest of smiles crossed his face.

At the split landing before the stairs turned, a large framed portrait hung between two bay windows. It depicted a family, a few young children and their parents, all smiling out at the viewer. You paused to look at it. When Jack noticed, he came to stand beside you, staring at the nameplate at the bottom of the frame.

"Do they live here?" You looked at each of the faces, wondering if you'd see any of them while you were here.

Jack's expression was hard set. He shook his head solemnly before he found his words. "No. Well..." he indicated towards the youngest child, a baby in the arms of its mother, "Only he does. He's older now, of course." Jack didn't mention what happened to the rest of the family before he returned to the stairs. You made the inference on your own.

As you reached the second level, Jack turned and handed you a mask that you hadn't noticed him carrying before. "Here you are. It is the request of the host that you keep it on for the entire night."

"Oh, alright." You picked up the mask and tied it behind your head, adjusting your hair around it. It covered the top half of your face and had black mesh, just thin enough for you to see through, hiding your eyes. Once it was on, Jack led you to a large wooden double door, subtly etched with various designs of mythical creatures, hunters, a massive forest. The doors were pushed open before you had a chance to inspect it further, and Jack stood back to let you walk in.

The ballroom was gorgeous. A mix of gold and cream, the sunset coming in through large windows with heavy red curtains drawn back. People all in masks were chatting, laughing, sitting at chairs and table and couches arranged near the walls. A small band sat at the back of the room, consisting of a grand piano, a harp, a flute, a violin, and a cello. A few more people, without masks, dressed in uniform waistcoats were going around with trays of drinks. "Wine?" Jack's voice was suddenly next to you, "Or cognac?"

You turned and found he was holding two glasses out to you. You took the cognac. He grinned briefly before looking back out at the room, "It's pretty, isn't it? My master is very proud of how the decor turned out. His name hasn't held any sort of event in years."

"Did they usually do things like this?"

"Oh, all the time. It was a very different era, though, lots of etiquette rules, the band would have been different as well. We do try to keep it somewhat traditional. It used to be a trumpet, but that's much too loud for the room, so the flute will signal when the dance begins." He started to walk forward again and you followed him. 

"When will that happen?"

Jack didn't answer. He showed you to an empty chair that you sat down in, setting your cognac on the table nearby. "I'll likely be around," Jack told you, "Do come find me if you need anything, and be sure to enjoy yourself while you're here." He turned on his heel and walked away, both hands clasped behind his back. You didn't notice the absence of the wine glass.

You looked the other direction out towards the rest of the ballroom and wondered if any of the other guests were people you knew. It seemed like half the town was gathered here, so there had to be a chance. You made a note to find the master of the house sometime during the night and thank him for inviting you. Your previous fears about the house had mostly subsided now that you had seen the interior and met one of the residents. It was much less creepy on the inside. 

The large door slammed heavily, presumably from Jack shutting it, and the trill of a flute followed resoundingly as if on cue. Everyone around you stood up and you found yourself following suit, then proceeding to stand awkwardly as the guests split into pairs towards the dance floor. Having no one to dance with, you sat down again after a moment of waiting to be asked, deciding to admire the mural on the ceiling instead. The mask caused only a slight blur to your vision, hardly impairing, but you found the details of the painting to be too small to make out without taking it off. You considered taking it off, but decided to not after remember what Jack had said about the host's wishes.

The flute trilled again and was soon followed by the rising sound of the other instruments. Music began to play, a waltz, you thought, but you couldn't be sure. You lowered your gaze from the ceiling to watch the dancers and jumped when you saw a figure standing in front of you. The figure jumped as well when you yelped in surprise. "Sorry!" He took a step back to give you a bit more personal space. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

He held out a hand to you, "I wanted to ask if you'd like to dance?" You couldn't tell behind the mask, but he seemed a bit sheepish, likely embarrassed from the first impression. He resembled an awkward, lanky teenager at prom. You smiled and took his hand, and he relaxed as he led you closer to the center of the floor.

"Do you dance much?" You noticed the way he kept pausing in his movements, trying to follow along with everyone else. They all seemed so perfectly choreographed. The two of you stayed mostly on the outside so you could talk without stepping on anyone's feet. Well, you may have accidentally stepped on his once or twice, but he had done the same to you so it was fair.

"Uh, sort of. Not this kind of dance, though. It's mostly just... jumping around on stage."

"Stage?"

"I'm in a band." He added quickly. "Not a huge one, but it's still fun. We do like, alt-indie rock songs, electronica and Euro house and stuff like that. We've only been together two or three years. " He switched positions a half-beat behind everyone else, putting his palm against yours and turning in a small circle.

"Sounds like you know your genres. What did you do before?"

He didn't hesitate, "Business marketing."

The music changed, and you found yourself suddenly in a large circle of people. Someone took your hand and twirled you away from your dance partner. The new girl in front of you was shorter than him and looked far more excited to be there. Her hair was soft pink, short braids pinned back with wing-shaped clips. Much neater than the previous boy, who had a mass of curls pulled into a low ponytail. "Hi!" She greeted you cheerily, taking the lead in the new dance. "Enjoying the party?"

"It's very interesting so far." You found her smile to be infectious. Along with the high-energy song that was playing, it was all putting you in a cheery mood.

The girl twirled you under her arm, "Ohh, you must not have heard the gossip of the year yet, have you?"

You blinked. "Gossip?" Before the girl could explain further, the dancers switched again. Something felt off about your next partner. She was cold to the touch and her hands were too heavy and too light at the same time. She didn't say a word to you. The next man you danced with was the exact same. You began to feel woozy. When you twirled away into a dancer who felt a bit more tangible, you tried to focus everything on not passing out.

"Are you okay?" He asked you. You realized how tight your grip on his arm had been.

"Um..."

"Here," The man led you away from the circle and allowed you to direct him to your seat. He gave you a glass of water from a passing tray as you sat down. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, sorry." The cold water felt fantastic. You drank at least half of it before putting it down next to your untouched cognac. "I guess I just... overheated or something."

"It's cool, these fancy-schmancy clothes can get pretty stuffy." He adjusted his tie and sat in the chair on the other side of your small table. His placidity made you smile. For some reason, you have expected the other partygoers to be uppity and stiff. They probably thought the same as you.

"So," the man started, "other than almost passing out, are you having a good time?"

"Yeah! Yeah, I am. I thought I'd recognize some more people, though. I mean, it's not too big of a town."

"Maybe you have seen someone you know. We _are_ all wearing masks, after all."

You reached up and touched your mask lightly. Even while talking to this man who was wearing one himself, you had almost forgotten it was on. "Oh yeah..." You murmured, and he chuckled at your forgetfulness.

A change in the music caught the man's attention. He looked out to the dance floor. "If you feel up to it, care to keep dancing?"

"Not too much else to do, is there?" You joked as you stood up and walked with him to the center of the floor. He clasped his hand with yours, taking the lead. Despite his confidence, he didn't seem entirely like he knew what the moves were. He was more intent on making sure you were having fun rather than impressing you.

You found yourself laughing before too long. Eventually, a calmer, slower song came on, and the two of you opted to stick together. His arms draped over your shoulders and yours went to his waist, swaying to the music. Across the room, you spotted a flash of the cotton candy pink hair of the girl before. It reminded you suddenly of what she had mentioned to you before your episode.

"Hey, have you heard anything about a rumor here? Like, just gossip?" You asked. 

The man you danced with tilted his head to face you and you were almost taken aback to see him frowning. "I think I know what you're talking about. Unfortunately. Yeah, there's a rumor going around that the host is a pretty notorious blackmailer, and some of his victims are at the ball now. Apparently, everyone is trying to figure out who they are, but there's not a whole lot of progress being made with the masks and all."

You blanked. "Oh." That wasn't the answer you were expecting at all. Blackmail? For what? Breaking the law? Your heart thudded uncomfortably at the thought of a potentially violent criminal being in the room with you.

A hand waved in front of your face. "Hey, hey, come back to me." The man was saying. "Just because I can't see your eyes doesn't mean I don't know you aren't zoning out."

"Sorry, I--"

"No need to apologize. I just want to make sure you don't go and ruin your own night by overthinking."

You smiled, "You know, you're pretty nice."

The man shrugged like it was no big deal, but he was grinning back anyways. "Eh, its the least I can do."

The two of you stuck together for another song before he was stolen away by another dancer. You returned to you chair happily, rather thankful for a chance to sit down again. As much fun as you were having, you didn't want to exhaust yourself too early. You reached out to your cognac glass--

"Enjoying yourself?"

\--and leapt a mile out of your seat. 

"Jack!" You snapped your head towards the butler's voice and found him standing next to the chair, stifling a laugh. 

"I'm sorry, I thought you heard me come up. Jumpy today, huh?"

You relaxed and turned in your seat to face him. "Guess so. I am enjoying myself, too, by the way. I've met a few nice people."

"Fantastic." He remained standing, hands clasped behind his back as he looked over the dance floor. Almost all of the guests were involved in either a waltz or a conversation. They all seemed to be having a good time. An odd expression crossed Jack's face, so faint you might have missed it, before he turned back to you with his usual soft smile. "Anyways, the reason I came to you is because dinner is starting very soon. I wanted to ensure you don't get lost."

"Oh, alright!" You took his hand when he offered it to help you out if your seat. In an instant, you noticed that you were incredibly hungry. A nice dinner sounded wonderful right now.

A strange feeling of dread washed over you as you exited the ballroom, strong enough to make you stop in your tracks. Jack noticed and turned back to you, "Everything alright?"

"Yeah... I just felt weird all of a sudden, sorry."

"Oh, that's not too weird." Jack said as he began towards the stairs again, a sly grin on his face. "This mansion is notoriously haunted."

You couldn't tell if he was joking.


	3. Dinner and a Murder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I chopped the last chapter in half and added more because I couldn't for the life of me find a good ending place
> 
> This chapter is super dialogue heavy and kind of messy I'm so sorry

The dining room was downstairs and halfway across the manor. There was no doubt you would've gotten lost if you had attempted the trip yourself. Jack stopped in front of a sleek wooden door. "Here we are. The door will open as soon as dinner has started. Right across the hall are the bathrooms, so you can freshen up if you need." 

He left as you headed towards the bathroom, citing that he needed to make sure the rest of the guests found their way as well. You fixed your hair in the mirror, smoothing it down until your fingers brushed over the ribbon that kept your mask on. You almost flinched upon feeling it. The sensation from before began to creep back, and you could've sworn your breath was visible when you exhaled. 

In a quick motion, you pulled one end of the bow and removed the mask. You looked pallid and your hands were shaking slightly, but at least that awful feeling was gone. You stared at yourself in the mirror, just studying your face. Remembering what it looked like. You looked familiar, but you couldn't quite place it. "That's me..." you mumbled, and immediately felt weird about it. Of course it was you. Who else would it be?

You tapped some cold water on your cheeks until the color began to return before putting your mask back in place. When you left the bathroom, you noticed the door to the dining room was open. Light chatter was coming from it. You entered the room only for the conversation to stop. Of the seven people looking at you, you could recognize three from the ballroom. 

You moved towards the last open seat at the side of the table. Jack, who you had missed since he was standing next to the door, lightly tapped your shoulder to redirect you. "Actually," he indicated towards a chair at the table's head, "your seat is that way."

"Are you our host?" The girl at your left hand asked as you sat down. You shook your head, but Jack spoke for you.

"No. He should be here soon, though." Jack said as he came around to your side with a dish. He set in front of you a bowl of shredded chicken and broth. You thanked him and he left through a second door next to a metal partition. 

The bubblegum-haired girl a few chairs down leaned forward slightly so she could be seen. " _Well_ , now that everyone is here, I'd like to break the ice." She began, likely picking up the end of a previous conversation.

Someone else spoke, "But the host--" and was quickly interrupted.

"Someone's got to, and it might as well be me. I mean, unless Arin wants to, seeing as he hosts events all the time. Isn't that right?"

You recognized Arin as the man who previously helped you during the dance. He sputtered, obviously caught off guard by the drop of his name. "Oh, geeze, I-- not dinner parties like these or anything. Entertaining is my wife's thing, really, it's a big part of her job."

"Oh, please!" Holly kept pushing, "I'm sure you're _perfectly_ prepared to get the ball rolling."

You almost wanted to ask her to lay off. Arin was almost squirming with how uncomfortable he was under her intense gaze. He cleared his throat and attempted to sound like he knew what he was doing, putting on a voice that reminded you of yourself working customer service. "Well... its always difficult when a new group of friends gets together for the first time." Honestly, I have no idea what I'm doing here, or what this is about, but I'm certainly determined to enjoy myself." He began trailing off, very aware of the others staring at him, "Soup is delicious, isn't it?"

"You said your wife is an entertainer, Arin?" The man at your left asked, causing the lady across from him to cover her mouth to stifle a laugh.

"She-- no, she _entertains_." Arin narrowed his eyes at the man, who was smiling smugly. "She's an artist, and I fund her shows. _That's_ where we host things."

"An artist?" The lady replied, "What's her name?" 

It was then that the door the kitchen swung open, creaking loudly as it did. Everyone jumped at the suddenness. It turned out to just be Jack, carrying several plates of food on a silver tray. One person moved to stand up, "Do you need any help? That looks heavy."

"No, it's quite alright." He responded. Jack went around the table and set a plate of gorgeously prepared fish down for each person, including the empty spot opposite you, but not the seat to it's right. You exchanged a few glances with the others at the table. Even with the masks, everyone shared a mutual, unspoken level of confusion. Jack eventually left once more. It took a few moments before anyone said anything. You picked at your food. 

"You think there's someone back there helping him?" You asked. A collective shrug went around the table. 

"He's the only staff member who's spoken to me." Holly said, getting a few sounds of agreement in response. 

The other lady at the table shifted to call attention to herself before speaking in a soft, dramatic tone, "Maybe they're ghosts." She grinned.

The man across from her looked extremely unamused. He turned to Arin, who was picking at his food, and revived the previous conversation, "So your wife? The famous artist?"

"She's not, like, super famous or anything." Arin said quietly, almost defensively. 

A shorter, rather mischievous-looking man glanced slowly up from his meal, saying cryptically, "I know who she is."

There was silence around the table. Everyone was waiting for him to elaborate, likely hoping there was some sensible reason he'd know her considering everyone seemed to be strangers. 

"I'm an artist, too." He continued after a pause. "My name is Ross, by the way, since none of you seemed to ask. I'm still waiting for the rest of you to introduce yourselves."

"Oh," the previous man seemed unimpressed. He stared Ross down before shortly answering his request. "Brian." Arin turned to him.

"Well, _Brian_ , what about your wife?"

"She's a comedian." He replied. No one seemed like they were about to believe someone with a career in comedy would marry someone who looked so serious all the time. Brian directed the attention to the lady across from him, "You're married, right? What does your partner do?"

She nearly cut him off replying, "Nothing!"

"Nothing?"

"Well, he just... lies around on his back all day."

"Sounds like hard work." Holly remarked with a grin. "What do you do?"

The lady daintily wiped her mouth on her napkin, careful to not smudge her lipstick. "I'm Suzy, and I work in taxidermy." There was a sparkle in her voice that made everyone else suddenly very aware of their own mortality.

Holly looked at the man next to her, a very quiet fellow with a beard who hadn't spoken almost the entire evening. "What about you? Where do you work?"

He didn't respond, so Holly tried again. "Come on, what do you do? How are we supposed to get acquainted if we don't say anything about ourselves?"

"Maybe he doesn't want to get acquainted with you." Suzy snapped.

Holly seemed taken aback, "Well, if I wasn't trying to keep the conversation going, I'm sure we'd all just be sitting here in silence!"

"Are you afraid of silence, Holly?" Brian asked slyly, hands folded. 

"What! No! Why do you ask?"

"You just seem to suffer from what we like to call 'pressure of speech'."

"'We'? Who is 'we'? Are you a shrink, Brian?" You could tell Holly's eyes behind her mask were narrowed accusingly.

"Not that kind of doctor. Actually, I'm a comedian like my wife. Stand-up and improv." 

" _You're_ a comedian?" Ross butted in, sounding incredulous. 

"I can assure you, I'm hilarious." Brian retorted with not a single change in his expression. 

"I'm a journalist." The bearded man spoke up suddenly, answering Holly's question. "I make documentaries and stuff. My name is Barry."

Suddenly, Holly was directly facing you. You already knew what she was going to ask. Your name barely came out louder than a mumble. "I... guess you could call me a chef? I'm sorta between jobs right now. I'm a kitchen intern." You thought there would've been more to say, but that summed it up rather nicely.

You looked at the next person who had yet to be introduced, and recognized him as the first one to ask you to dance. "Oh, geeze, I'm the last one? Well, my name is Daniel." He said, obviously feeling awkward, "I guess you guys can call me Dan. I'm a musician. I, uh, sing."

Holly picked up the energy right away, ending on a high and light note. "Like I said, I run a pet store. And my name is Holly." She turned as the butler came back in from the kitchen. "Jack?" There was an odd sharpness in her tone, "Is our host going to arrive soon? He's missing all the niceties."

Before he could answer, there was a knock at the door to the dining room. Jack smirked at Holly before moving to answer it. He pulled the door open and stepped back to allow someone to enter.

"Everyone, I'd like to introduce you to Mr. Fischbach, the master of the house and your host for this evening." Mr. Fischbach was a dark-looking fellow, dressed to the nines in a suit and red tie. He took his seat at the head of the table opposite of you, and seemed to stare you down for a moment, like he was threatening you to move.

"I'm not too late, am I, Jack?" He asked, looking up at the man in question. 

"Of course not, sir." Jack smiled tightly. You glanced at your watch and found it was almost ten o'clock. 

Holly, again, was much more straightforward than you were. "So," she began, looking towards Mr. Fischbach, "are we finally going to find out why you've called us here?"

"Holly..." Dan said slowly, like a warning. 

"No, no, I understand." Mr. Fischbach said with a polite smile.

"Can I interest any of you in dessert?" Jack piped up suddenly. When he was met with silence, he continued, "In that case, I am instructed to tell you what you all have in common with each other. Unless you would care to do the honors, Mr. Fischbach?"

"Why?" The host responded, sitting back in his chair as if he were bored. The plate of food in front of him remained untouched. "They already know me."

"I don't think so. You haven't really identified yourself." Jack turned from Mr. Fischbach to face the rest of the guests. "The one thing you all have in common is that you're all being blackmailed."

Everyone began speaking at once, some denying the claim. Holly slammed her hands on the table. "I _knew_ it!" She stood, as well did Brian, Ross, and Suzy. Holly moved towards the door, "I want to leave, now."

"I'm afraid you can't." Jack said, he and Mark calm as ever. "The doors are all locked. If you would sit down, please--"

"You can't keep us here!" exclaimed Suzy. 

Brian nodded in agreement, "She's right, the other guests are still here. We can call for them. Open the door!"

"Over my dead body. There are no other guests, Professor." Jack snapped. Brian flinched visibly. "Please, if you will. Sit down. _Holly_. Everything will be explained."

Reluctantly, Holly returned to her seat. Everyone else sat down as well.

"For a considerable amount of time, all of you have been paying a _considerable_ amount of money, perhaps more money than you have, to someone who threatens to expose you. Except... for one, of course."

"Who?" Holly demanded. Jack ignored her, but she shot Mr. Fischbach a knowing glare. You kept your mouth shut and stared at the table, eyes wide. You weren't being blackmailed. You were the 'one'. You didn't dare speak up. 

Jack continued, "And none of who know who's blackmailing you, do you?"

The silence endured. You could sense Holly and Arin both looking at you, trying to get your attention and just exchange a glance. You didn't move a muscle.

"Very well. Since we're all in the same boat, there's no harm in revealing some details, is there?"

"Jack, please." Dan shot to his feet, "This is humiliating. You don't have to."

The butler opened his mouth to respond, but was cut shortly by Mr. Fischbach lifting his hand in a dismissive wave. "Actually, I think he's right. I'm very tired, so why don't you start with me?"

"You?" Suzy leaned to look at him as she addressed him, "You're being blackmailed too?"

"Of course not."

"Then why do you have a secret? What is it?"

"Hadn't you guessed?" Jack inquired. There was the smallest hint of a wicked grin on his face, "He's the one who's been blackmailing all of you."

The room erupted. You faintly noticed someone try to lunge for Mr. Fischbach, only to be held back by the person next to them. The host stood, unfazed, and you suddenly noticed the carpet bag that had been next to his chair.

He hoisted it onto the table and unlatched it. Jack spoke over the din until everyone became quiet enough to pay attention. "Now, blackmail depends heavily on secrecy. Your host and I have arranged a game for you all. The police have been called, and are on their way. You can denounce him and have him arrested, and then your troubles will be over."

"But it's not that easy," Mr. Fischbach said as he opened the bag. He paused, then looked up at the guests, a smug expression on his face. "Who wants to guess what's in here?" 

"The evidence against us?" Ross sneered.

Mr. Fischbach chuckled and began giving shallow, rectangular boxes one by one to Holly, who passed them down the table begrudgingly. You finally snapped out of your daze to hand some of them to Brian. The box in your hands was black with a grey ribbon. It was heavier than you felt it should have been. 

"Open them." He said when everyone had theirs. You hardly had to be told a second time. You followed the order like you were under a spell, tearing the ribbon from the box and removing the lid.

"Some game! A candlestick?" Suzy's voice rang beside you. "What's this for?"

Something buzzed in your ears as Mr. Fischbach continued to speak, filling your body with white noise. "In your hands, you each have a lethal weapon." When you glanced up, the first thing you saw was the striking black skull and crossbones on a bottle in Danny's hands. Brian and Arin each held a large wrench and a dagger, respectively, and across from Arin, Ross was turning over a lead pipe and looking at it curiously. Barry had a piano wire laid on the table in front of him. Holly, shocked into silence, was as pale as the pristine white noose she held.

You looked down. There was a gun in your box.

"If you denounce me to the police, you may be free of any blackmail, but you'll also be publicly exposed and humiliated. I'll make sure to that. However..." He went to stand next to Jack, and grabbed the butler at the shoulder. "If one you kills Jack now, no one but us will know, and your secrets will remain safe."

"Sir?" Jack's eyes were wide. He looked panicked, and you could tell this wasn't part of what he had planned. Immediately, you felt the need to protect him. You found your hand closing around the gun. 

"Be quiet."

" _Mark, please--_ " He cut himself off when Mr. Fischbach, Mark, tightened his grip and halfway dragged him over to the door. "He has the keys to get out, doesn't he? Which he said he'd open over his dead body. Who wants to take him up on that offer?"

Mark kept talking. You felt the buzzing from before, threatening to make your arms and legs numb with static. "The only way to avoid seeing yourselves on the front pages is to kill him." You stared at the locked doorknob directly next to his waist. Fingers trailing over the trigger, you wondered if you could make the shot. Mark's hand hovered over the light switch.

" _Now._ "

The room went completely dark. A chair next to you clattered over and someone screamed. Your eyes hadn't moved, but you knew where the lock was in the dark. Your hand closed around the gun and you shot.

You heard a glass shatter. Something else, heavy, hit the ground. The lights came on. 

Mr. Fischbach was dead.


	4. Parlor and a Matchstick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bet y'all thought this fic was dead huh
> 
> the only one dead here is mark ayOOOOOOOOO

_Not dead_ , you thought, _not dead._

Mr. Fischbach was facedown on the ground. Jack was as well, but he was sitting upright a few feet away, just staring. Everyone was standing.

The one who turned on the lights, Suzy, cried out at the sight of the body. Brian rounded the table in seconds to get to it. "Let me see, let me see," he kneeled beside Mr. Fischbach and lifted up the man's arm, then dropped it. It fell limply. Brian looked up. "He's dead."

"You shot him!" You snapped towards the sound and found Suzy staring right at you, pointing at your gun.

"You were going to kill Jack?" Danny's voice was trembling. He looked horrified.

"No, no, no!" You insisted, "I only shot the door, I swear! I was trying to shoot the lock!" You backed up and bumped into Arin, who had come around to stand behind you. He placed a hand on your arm like he was trying to comfort you and gingerly took the gun, placing it in the box. You looked at him. He was quiet, obviously shaken. You wanted to be able to see his expression. "You believe me, right?"

Arin didn't say anything. He didn't move his hand, but he wasn't looking at you either. "They're right." You heard Brian say. "The lock is broken. And there's no bullet wound on Mr. Fischbach." Arin breathed a sigh of relief.

"Are you alright, Jack?" Barry asked, helping the man to his feet. Jack was shaking, but he nodded.

Suzy looked down at Brian and Mr. Fischbach's corpse, "How did he die?"

"I don't know!" Brian threw his hands up as he stood, "I'm not a forensic expert!"

"One of us must have killed him." Suzy looked about the room like she was going to pin the murder on somebody right then and there. Ross dropped his weapon, raising his hands in innocence and stepping away from the body when her glance swept over him. Danny, though he was the furthest from the body and was given a rather inefficient weapon, making him one of the least viable suspects, did the same.

"I need a drink." Exasperated, Holly reached for her glass and took a sip. Something in your head clicked when you met Dan's gaze across the table. Your eyes lowered to the bottle on his placemat.

"Was he poisoned?"

There was hardly a beat after you spoke before Holly was wailing over the clamor from everyone else. Her chair nearly overturned with how fast she shot back and collided with Ross. "Holly, relax!" He held her by the arms, shaking her lightly until she was listening. "If he was, it was only _his_ drink. You aren't going to die!"

Eventually, the commotion ended and Holly was placated. She sat back her chair, for once trying to keep herself closed off and out of the way, with Ross standing protectively at her side. The group had settled into a half-circle around Mr. Fischbach's body. "There's no indication to how he died?" Arin mumbled. Brian shook his head.

Jack's hands went to run through his hair, so distressed that it looked for a moment like he was just going to rip it out, "This isn't... This wasn't how this was supposed to go. This isn't what I wanted.."

"Not what _you_ wanted?" snapped Ross. Holly flinched, still on-edge. "Weren't you in on this whole blackmail thing?"

"I was!" Jack said, then winced as if it hurt physically to admit. "I didn't know he would do this. It _was_ supposed to be the evidence against you, in those boxes. You would have had to match each crime to the guilty party, and we planned that you would turn against each other when you discovered the secrets, too distracted to notice when the police arrived."

The room was quiet as you listened to Jack. He was looking more and more emotional by the second. "But he gave you weapons. He wanted you to kill me. I've been serving this family for so long, I thought-- I trusted him--" His voice cracked and so did your heart. Silently, Holly procured a handkerchief and offered it to Jack, who thanked her and dried his eyes.

"So, then everything is explained." Brian said, matter-of-fact.

Ross shot back, "Nothing's explained! We still don't know who killed him!"

"Well we had better find out soon," Brian retorted, "before the police arrive and dig up _all_ of our little secrets while they solve this!"

The police, oh god. You nearly forgot they were on their way. "They can't possibly come here now..." Suzy said, her voice hazy as though she had just remembered as well.

Still, Ross wasn't done. "How are we going to have enough time to figure out which one of you did it!"

Behind you, Arin stiffened like he'd been insulted. "What do you mean, _'you'_?"

"Well, I didn't do it!"

" _Well._ " Jack echoed Ross, cutting in. Now composed, he had the same tone he'd been using earlier in the night. Assured and in control. "We should go somewhere else. I don't... find this area to be very pleasant to be in anymore."

Agreements rippled throughout. "But first," Jack held up a hand, and everyone who had been moving towards the door froze. "If you would..." He crossed to the bag that Mark had brought in with him and held it open. "I don't want anything dangerous lying out in the open."

Barry was the first one to understand. He deposited his wire garrote into the bag, holding it like it would bite him if he moved any slower. One by one, everyone else follow suit with their own weapons. Not wanting to touch the gun again, you simply passed over the whole box. Once all the weapons were secure and accounted for, Jack zipped the bag shut and snapped off the tab, before placing the entire duffel into the nearby china cabinet and locking it. He seemed satisfied, as did the rest of the party. It felt safer having the weapons locked up, you had to admit.

Jack turned back to the door to leave. He tilted his head at the lock, then gave a light push. The door swung open easily. You felt bad for the property damage, but not bad enough to say it out loud.

Everyone filed out of the dining room. Arin tailed behind you, still hovering protectively after Suzy's accusation. You wondered if he had any doubt that you were innocent. You wondered if _you_ had any doubt about _him_. Immediately you were angry with yourself for having the thought. Then again, you had only just met these people, and while they seemed nice enough, Mr. Fischbach was dead now due to the actions of one of them. One of them was a murderer. Your heart jumped to your throat. What if they didn't stop at just Mark? 

"I'm leaving." Holly announced as the party gathered in the hall, moving away from Ross to walk next to Jack.

The butler answered immediately. "That's not happening."

Holly reacted as if he'd just slapped her. Before she could say anything more, Barry cut in with an even tone. "He's right. The murderer is someone here and we need to find out who."

"That's why I want to leave!" Holly's voice almost went shrilly. "I don't want to stay in a building with some homicidal maniac going about!"

"We're all in this together, Holly." Barry said more firmly. He was almost drowned out by Brian, threatening to blame the murder on Holly if she left, and the agreements of the other guests. You narrowed your eyes as you looked to each of their faces, all covered by the same ornate black domino mask you wore. You couldn't pinpoint a single expression, and it made an uncomfortable mix of fear and anger rise in your stomach. There was no need for the masks anymore, and yet everyone had kept them on throughout the whole night, murder and all. Why were you still even wearing yours?

Before you could dwell on it any longer, you found yourself focusing again on Jack, who had just pushed open a door with a loud _creak_. "This is the parlour." He announced, leading you into a round, ornate room. "Please, make yourself comfortable." Gradually, everyone found a place for themselves on the few couches and armchairs lining the walls. There was heavy tension in the air. Anyone could be a killer and no one wanted to be the unfortunate that wound up next to them.

You relaxed as much as you could into a soft, jewel-toned loveseat between a tall pair of portraits. Holly took the spot beside you and the two of you exchanged a glance and the slightest smile. You felt a only a glimmer of the energy she had radiated earlier in the ballroom. Ross leaned against the wall between her armrest and an end table, not wanting to leave her side. Holly seemed grateful. You had a similar feeling towards Arin, who had picked the chair closest to you. Nearby, Suzy sat draped on a chaise lounge, her aesthetic hardly out of place. Flanked by Brian and a grand piano, Danny attempted to appear comfortable sitting on a couch that was used to someone well shorter than him.

Jack remained standing, taking a spot by the empty fireplace. Candelabrum on the mantle cast a yellow-orange glow on the side of his face. Even with the chandelier overhead, the flickering shadows were suddenly striking enough to make him look completely different. He looked older and more tired. He was locked staring into a space that wasn't really there. The moment lasted only a second before he moved again, but it had already caught your attention. As Jack turned, you briefly met his eyes and could have sworn he saw right through your mask.

"Jack,” Ross began, “Am I right in thinking there’s anyone else in this house?”

“Mm, no.”

“Then there _are_ other people in the house?”

“Sorry, I meant ‘no’ meaning ‘yes’.” 

Ross blinked. “‘No’ meaning--? Look, I want a straight answer! Is there someone else in this house or isn’t there, yes or no?”

“Um.” Confused, Jack glanced at the floor, then back to Ross, eyebrows furrowed, “No?”

“‘No’ there _is_ or ‘no’ there _isn’t_?”

“Can you guys,” Arin broke the silence of the rest of the room, “Please, like, for a hot second, can you guys shut up?”

Begrudgingly, Ross held his tongue. Arin looked to Jack. “What about the other guests? From the ballroom? Or any of the staff?”

Jack shifted to face the man, "They left once dinner started. It was Mr. Fischbach's instructions that there would be no interruptions." A beat passed. "Or witnesses."

“Except for us, for your murder.” snarked Brian, his voice halfway between a joking taunt and an outright dare for him to deny the claim. Jack frowned and averted his eyes.

“That… wasn’t the original plan.”

“Well that was the plan that happened.” You surprised yourself by speaking up. No one seemed to be about to talk over you, so you sat forward and addressed the whole group. “I don't like the thought of being stuck in a house with a murderer any more than the rest of you, but it’s obvious nobody’s gonna fess up to killing Mark.”

Suzy turned to you with a sharp tone, “What do you propose we do about it? Play detective?”

You shrugged with your whole arms, putting more distance between you and Suzy as you moved back. You were getting tired of her hostility. “Why not? Like I know! I don’t exactly deal with _actual murders_ on a day-to-day. What do _you_ suggest?”

“No, I think that’s a great idea.” Ross cut Suzy off before she even had a chance to think of an answer. “If we solve it before the police get here, that’s less investigating they have to do into all of us, and hopefully whatever awful things we’re getting blackmailed for can stay secret. We can play detective all we want, right as soon as we clear up the confusion as to whether or not there’s anyone else in this house.”

“I told you there isn’t.” said Jack. You tilted your head back on the couch cushion and stared at the ceiling. Here they go again.

“There isn’t any confusion, or there isn’t anyone in the house?” 

There was a nice mural on the ceiling. A magical woodland scene like the one engraved on the ballroom doors. Some classic painting, if you had to guess. 

“Either. Or, both?”

It brightened up the room just enough to be inviting, though the walls were high enough that it wasn't overpowering and distracting.

“Just give me a clear answer!”

You counted the fairies. 

“Certainly!” Jack matched Ross’s heated tone, then immediately lost it. “What was the question?”

“Is there anyone else in the house?”

A resounding _no!_ came from everyone in the room. If only for a moment, it shocked Ross into silence. “That’s what he says,” he continued after a beat, drawing a sigh of exasperation from the other guests. You turned your attention from the ceiling to him. “but does he know? I suggest we split into pairs and search the house.”

“Wait a minute.” Danny stopped him. “Pairs? If one of us _is_ the murderer, whoever is left with them might get killed!”

“Then we would have discovered who the murderer is!”

“But the other half would be dead!”

“Do _you_ have any other ideas?”

Jack stepped in, “It’s a risk. Are you willing to take that chance, Ross?” Ross nodded once. “What about the rest of you?” Reluctantly, everyone gave in. Jack straightened up a bit. “Then we’ll need to choose our partners. What’s say we draw lots?”

He picked a box from the mantle and procured a handful of long matches. After ensuring there was one for each person, Jack began taking two at a time and snapping them to different lengths. “The shortest two will together check the cellar, then the next shortest will take the ground floor, and so on, up. Now, since there’s nine of us, whoever gets the unbroken stick can choose which pairing to join. Agreed?” He arranged the matches so the lengths couldn’t be seen and held his arm out.

Closest to him, Danny took the first match, then followed by Brian. They weren’t paired. Ross and Arin moved from your side of the room to draw your matches, followed more slowly by you and Holly.

“Dammit.” You heard Suzy mutter, and looked over to see her holding her stick to Brian’s.

“I guess we’re a _match_ , huh?” He said. You cracked a grin, looking away before Suzy could turn and stare you down.

There were two matches left in Jack’s hand by the time you reached him. You started feeling fuzzy again, and not in the warm and comforting way. Your entire body buzzed like white noise as you reached for the match, fighting the urge to black out.

Jack said something, then repeated himself when it was clear you didn’t understand. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” You replied instinctively.

“Same as before?” he asked, referring to your episode outside the ballroom doors. You nodded. He smiled cheekily. “Ghosts.” The smile you returned didn’t fully reach your eyes. Jack inclined his head to direct behind you. “Going to choose your partners?”

Confused, you turned around, and found three pairs already grouped together: Danny and Arin, Brian and Suzy, and Ross and Holly. You glanced back and suddenly noticed Barry hovering just close enough to Jack to still be giving you personal space. In their hands were identical sticks, half the length of yours. You struggled to remember drawing one, let alone realizing it was uncut.

“Oh. Right. Well…” You looked at each of the pairs, silently evaluating who you would go with. “I think I’ll go with…”

 

_**Choose:** _

  
_**Search the third floor with Dan and Arin?** _  
_**Search the basement with Brian and Suzy?** _  
_**Search the ground floor with Ross and Holly?** _  
_**Search the second floor with Barry and Jack?** _

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if the writing in this one seemed poor or dragged out. I honestly had to fight to get the motivation to complete this chapter. The next ones will be way more exciting as you start figuring things out :D 
> 
> I do ask though, that you stick to whichever route you choose. It'll keep the information you learn from blending together and being confusing at the end.


End file.
